


someone special

by hiensou



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, wet dreams and blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiensou/pseuds/hiensou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up until now, his dreams had been thoroughly ignored. They were best friends, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	someone special

**Author's Note:**

> from the free! iwatobi swim club kinkmeme (i.e i wrote porn wowza). op requested makoto having a wet dream while sleeping over at haruka's, and after a friend of mine read the filler i wrote and loved it i decided to de-anon it.
> 
> also, another friend has been educating me a lot about how gay sex works and im aware that this isnt entirely correct but fanfiction rarely is and this was for a kink meme so it's all about making you all blushing, hot and bothered, i suppose. it's what you asked for. hope you enjoy!

He was all around him. Makoto was engulfed by him, hands and tongue leaving trails across his tan skin that wouldn't be forgotten for quite a while, he was sure. A kiss here; a nip or a bite there. Makoto did not know when there had been a switch, what had triggered this sudden turn between them. He supposed, in a way, it'd always been heading in this direction, but it was only in hindsight he could fully realise that, and he felt a little stupid.

Did Haruka share his thoughts?

Honestly, to him it seemed as if the shorter male wasn't thinking at all. At least not about anything but how alluring he found the many inches of Makoto's body. Makoto was not denying him though – far from it – he rather liked this change. Yes, he liked the electricity he felt from the ten fingertips exploring his every corner; he liked the pair of lips eager against his own. He liked... he loved the sounds those lips were exchanging with his own, too. Every murmur, gasp, and every whisper of his name set his insides ablaze. They warmed him up and they exploded within him, they sparkled like the sudden glints in Haruka's deeply blue eyes did.

He grunted the dark-haired boy's name, a steady hand encircling his arousal that built up a feeling greater than his own hand ever managed to. Haruka's face was close to as indifferent as always, yet Makoto swore he glimpsed a bit of desperation in those orbs of his, looking up from where he sat between Makoto's legs, which were splayed out over the bed and long enough for his toes to reach the footboard.

Haruka's left hand was smooth, sliding up and down Makoto's thigh in a soothing manner. He kept his eyes keenly locked with Makoto's, watching him and his reaction as he lowered his body, a lick to the head of the other teenager's member that pulled a small gasp out of him. Wet warmth surrounded the tip, Haruka's lips all but contaminating him with bliss. He took in more of him, soaking Makoto's length and drawing hisses and bashful moans from him. Haruka was his friend. His _friend_ , and yet...

The blue-eyed boy let out a moan of his own, brows furrowed, and the vibration set sparks throughout Makoto. His hands found their way to Haruka's hair, clenching without thinking, and then quickly letting go of the bluish locks and caressing down towards his cheeks. His thumbs stroked circles, traced his earlobes absent-mindedly, and his wet, olive green eyes squeezed shut.

Haruka's sucking and stroking increased in speed and pressure, and Makoto couldn't question anything any more.

“Ha...ru...” he sighed, curling his toes as he felt himself nearing climax. Haruka's eyes were closed now, and he looked concentrated, holding Makoto's hips down with one hand and pumping his shaft avidly with the other. It was too much, Makoto decided, too much for him to handle as Haruka's mouth left him cold, taking a moment to breathe and spread kisses over him before going at it again. Too much, too much, too much.

He grabbed at Haruka's shoulders, finding them too far away from him to offer the support he needed, and instead dug his fingers into the sheets with a hoarse moan as he–

–woke up in a nearly pitch black room, sweating, roused... with a Haruka beside him, breathing audibly. Makoto sucked in some air and stopped breathing entirely, watching Haruka with wide eyes for any signs of consciousness, but the boy seemed to be soundly asleep, fortunately. Not that he'd be able to see through Makoto's skull and watch his dream dance around like a movie, of course, but he might have been giving away some other strange signs... Judging from the way his boxers felt around the lower parts of his body, he probably had...

He swallowed thickly, wiping some sweat from his forehead. God, the room was like a sauna. He sat up entirely, rubbing his eyes to adjust quicker to the darkness, and then looked at the clock on Haruka's night-stand. 6:03 A.M.

“Thank God that's over,” he heard a murmur coming from beside him, and he froze. Swallowed again, and let his eyes travel to Haruka, whose eyes were half-lidded, looking straight back up at Makoto.

“Huh?”

“You were making noise in your sleep. And also squirming around. You woke me up.” he explained, and Makoto did not know whether he was showered with guilt or simply embarrassment from that comment. Nevertheless, he apologised.

“Sorry for waking you up, I... I woke myself up too, it seems,” he forced a half-hearted laughter, scratching the back of his head. He really wanted to go change his underwear right about now.

Haruka's eyes darted slowly around the room as he yawned, settling at the window with an apathetic look upon his features. Surely he hadn't grasped just what Makoto had been dreaming. Otherwise, he wouldn't be this expressionless. Though, it was Haruka, but still.

“Who was it?” Haruka asked him. Makoto felt puzzled.

“Who was...” did he mean...? “What?”

The dark-haired teenager looked back up at Makoto with a look so blank the latter didn't know what to think. “In your dream. Who was it?”

Well, Makoto argued with himself, there was no real reason to deny it, was there? Apparently he'd given himself away already. Haruka didn't need to know that it had been him, however, so he decided to keep that a secret, if anything. He sighed in defeat, running a hand through his damp hair, eyes avoiding the other male's. “No one special,” he lied, “just... I don't know... a figment of my imagination?”

Haruka looked incredulous, but closed his eyes as an indication of going to sleep again. Though, Makoto noted, the apples of his cheeks were flaring with colour. Only faintly so, but visible enough through the dim light of his bedroom. Lying down himself, Makoto waited until Haruka's breathing changed and his mouth fell open a bit before scrambling off to the bathroom to change his boxers. He'd borrowed Haruka's before – mind you, they'd been friends since they barely even knew how to walk, so they'd borrowed and exchanged quite a lot during the years – so hopefully, the boy wouldn't mind lending his friend a pair once more.

* * *

 

It was always nice staying over at Haruka's. Especially in the mornings. Unlike Makoto, he lacked siblings who woke up way too early and caused way too much noise. Neither did he have the routine of watching them fighting over food and having to break it up, or having to spend afternoons taking care of them until they fell asleep. Makoto loved his siblings to death, no doubt, but it was a nice change; silence, tranquillity, the smell of early morning baths and breakfast at lunch-time.

The two sat across from each other, legs carelessly crammed underneath the low table, the habit of tangling together old and frivolous. Personal space had never been an important thing between the two, which offered comfort, since Makoto had days when he wondered if the way Haruka would look at him with disinterest like he did at everyone else meant that he was nothing special to Haruka. That was exactly when things like these came to remind him that that was not true. Usually, Haruka did not like to be touched a lot. He savoured personal space. But if Makoto came close, grazed his skin, clutched a hand, there was never a complaint. It was a nice reminder. Haruka was comfortable with him.

He hoped Haruka found some sort of silver lining in their tangled legs, too.

“Mm, the food is good as always, Haru,” he broke the silence. The silence that lay across the room as usually during breakfast, neither uncomfortable nor awkward. Just calm, quiet, occasionally torn as Makoto felt like asking a question or complimenting Haruka's talent in cooking.

Haruka usually just nodded in response to that; he wasn't much of a morning person. So nowadays, Makoto didn't even look up, awaiting an affirmative tip of the other's head, but kept eating in stillness. So, today, he wasn't surprised much by the silence he got in response to his sentence. After a while though, Haruka put his chopsticks down and stared at him.

“I know you were lying.” he stated, and Makoto was thoroughly appalled by that. He wasn't lying. He'd never been. Haruka's cooking was very pleasant – especially during the weekends when he took the time to make something more than just fish.

“This morning,” Haruka continued upon seeing the confusion in his friend's eyes, “when you had that dream of yours.”

Makoto's cheeks flamed up in a dusty red hue; why did Haruka have to bring _that_ up again?

“Oh...? Uh...” was all he could get out, not completely sure of what the boy opposite him was referring to. “You mean...?”

“You...” Haruka started, but lost the blunt way he usually managed to make his remarks in, “You said it was no one special. In your dream.” did he stutter just now? Makoto wasn't sure he'd ever heard him do that. Haruka was one to think before he spoke. Always. Getting him flustered enough not to be absolutely certain of his own words was a big accomplishment.

Makoto swallowed. “How do you know that?” he offered a stammered sentence of his own.

Haruka looked down at his food, poking a half-eaten fried egg with a chopstick. “I could tell... From the way you...” he abruptly stopped, freezing in his movements, and glancing up at Makoto from underneath dark eye-lashes. Makoto's eyebrows knitted in further confusion.

“You could tell from the way I...”

“The way you sounded.”

“Right, that I was... dreaming of somebody special?”

“You were dreaming of me.” Haruka pulled his own eyebrows close together, looking frustrated. With himself? With Makoto? The brown-haired boy had no idea, truthfully. He swallowed again. His throat felt dry.

There wasn't a sound but the ticking clock, although this time Makoto didn't feel comfortable at all. More so, he would have liked to sink into the ground, or to run out of there, or to have Haruka do _something_ because the stillness was killing him. Something, anything, Haruka could keep talking or get up and leave or yell at him for being disgusting or he could...

...he could, you know, scootch over to Makoto's side of the table. Which he did, causing a pulsating feeling in the pit of Makoto's gut and a knot in his throat. He bit his bottom lip, staring at Haruka's lap, because looking him in the eye felt like a dangerous thing to do.

“I'm... I'm sorry, I really am. I don't know why I had that dream, really,” Makoto tried carefully, shrugging his shoulders, “please don't be angry with me, nothing... Nothing has to change between us, you know. You're still my, uh, my best... Haru?”

Said boy was unbuttoning his own shirt, all of a sudden, and Makoto hadn't felt so lost before in his entire life. Haruka couldn't seriously be thinking about taking a bath now of all times? He'd had intentions to swim during weird or inappropriate situations before, but right now, they had one or two things to settle before– _oh_.

Haruka had tossed his shirt to the side, and climbed into Makoto's lap in one quick movement, working on the buttons of the taller boy's shirt as well. Makoto felt as if he could pass out any second. His chest was exploding, his mind over-working itself from trying to make sense of everything, and there was a tickling heat throughout his body. Haruka slid the fabric over his shoulders, exposing a muscular frame wrapped in tan, smooth skin. His hands ran up and down Makoto's arms, their eyes finally daring to meet again.

“Haru...”

“What happened in that dream, Makoto?” he demanded, feather-light touches tickling all the way down to the palms of Makoto's hands, which he gladly held out so that Haruka could slip his fingers in between the other's.

“Oh, you... You want to know? Uh, it's kind of embarrassing,” he forced a chuckle, the flushing of his cheeks spreading to his ears and his neck as Haruka pulled Makoto's arms around his waist. It wasn't that Makoto couldn't understand what his friend was trying to imply here, he just couldn't believe it.

“Was it a good dream?”

Trick question. Yes for _'I enjoyed having sex with you, my best friend, Haruka; please, oh please, can we do it again?',_ or no for _'I was rather creeped out, so would you kindly get off me? Ugh!'_ And either way, Haruka would see right through him. Partially because lying never worked on him, and partially because Makoto was currently sporting a semi in his borrowed underwear. It was a dead end, really, so he decided to be greedy and act on what his subconsciousness had told him he wanted.

“It was very satisfying, yeah,” he said lowly, calm and honest, yet face dusted crimson still.

The corner of Haruka's mouth twitched upwards, “What did I do to you?”

Makoto let out a startled sound as the hands that had lead his own to the small of Haruka's back now left to caress his abdomen. Haruka's hands were a little cold.

“You... you... uh,” he felt distracted, so he let his olive eyes dart away from Haruka's, scanning the kitchen to the right, and then settling to watch the carpet beside him as if it were any more entertaining than his friend was right now. “You were giving me a, um...” he couldn't say the word. It wouldn't come, but Haruka seemed to understand what the gap in his sentence meant, as he leaned in to bury his face in the crook of Makoto's neck. Maybe he was embarrassed, too.

“And you liked that,” he turned a question into a statement, voice muffled against Makoto's throat.

“I very much liked that, yeah.”

Haruka breathed hot air onto his skin, kissed it, and pulled away to push his body down onto the floor. “And would you like to experience that again?” he asked.

Still, there was a fragment of doubt within Makoto. It told him not to let a stupid dream ruin their friendship. “Do you really think that would be such a good idea, Haru? We're... We're friends, aren't we?”

Haruka stared at him for a while before seating himself on the floor beside Makoto.

“If you don't want to, that's okay. I just figured that–“

“It's not that, Haru,” Makoto sat up as well, “I, uh, I mean... Wouldn't it be risking our friendship a bit?”

“Maybe,” Haruka said, “but if you'd rather be just friends forever than–“

“Don't you?” Makoto interrupted again, “I mean, of course I'd want to be your friend forever, or, as long as possible, but if we could be... um... more than that, I...” his voice faded, unsure of what he was blurting out just now. This wasn't really something he'd been thinking about too much. But in retrospect, that hadn't been the first dream of Haruka. It hadn't been the first time he'd seen him moving towards him, silently wishing it was to share an unexpected kiss. It hadn't been the first time his insides had trembled with anticipation as his _friend_ undressed in front of him. Maybe, Makoto thought, he'd been keeping his eyes closed for his own feelings. For their development. Had he been missing something that, to Haruka, was as clear as the day?

Then, his hand was held again, and this time, Haruka felt warmer than he did before. Looking up, Makoto caught him glaring at the wall as if it had done something really insulting, and he then detected the colour of Haruka's cheeks, matching his own. Makoto smiled. No this, whatever it really was, this was what he wanted.

A bit cautious still, he leaned in to place a kiss on Haruka's cheek, and the latter now turned to face him, brows raised in a way that asked if he'd decided on this now, and Makoto put his lips between his teeth, hoping for the best.

Haruka was in his lap again, holding his face and kissing it in a sloppy, inexperienced, absolutely breathtaking way, and Makoto kissed back with parted lips and curious tongue, tasting breakfast and want on Haruka's lips. Their noses bumped together every now and then, causing a smile to grow on Makoto's face, yet they managed to keep their teeth from clacking, and for that he was thankful.

Then, they were on top of each other, flat out on the floor again. Makoto's hands slid up and down Haruka's back, teasing nails scratching his shoulder-blades harmlessly. Haruka parted from his mouth, sat up and began pulling down his sweatpants.

“Tell me what I did.” he said, and Makoto wasn't sure whether he wanted to be guided due to uncertainty, or if it was a way of arousing him. Whatever Haruka's reasons were, he was making Makoto's pants feel a bit tight around him.

“You... ah, you were kissing me rather eagerly.”

“Where?”

Makoto swallowed again. “Everywhere.”

Haruka raised a brow as he managed to slip out of his pants entirely and throw them to the pile of shirts. He scootched away from his position across Makoto's hips, allowing the teenager to remove his pants as well. Then, he was right back, lips pressed firmly against the bottom of his jaw.

“Oh,” Makoto said, though it came out more like a moan, and deciding he wouldn't let Haruka do everything (despite the dream having been a lot that way – which he wasn't exactly complaining about, but still) he let his hands guide his senses, closing his eyes and thinking only of the bumps and crooks along Haruka's body as his fingerprints were left upon them. Experimentally, Haruka bucked his hips, sliding his own half-hard member alongside Makoto's. Up to the edge of his – Haruka's – underwear, and down, and repeat...

A restrained groan fell from Makoto, and though Haruka tried his best not to be too loud himself, his breathing was uneven and heavy, with the occasional hitch.

His open mouth was leaving wet bruises over Makoto's collarbones and shoulders, and the thought of being labelled _'belongs to Haruka Nanase'_ in such an immodest fashion emerged goose bumps on Makoto's skin. He wanted to mark Haruka too, but right now, he needed him in a whole other way.

“Haru,” he breathed, “lips.”

Haruka looked up at him from where he'd been heading south, raised himself on his arms and thrust against Makoto's crotch another time, a mutual moan escaping them both. Makoto wasn't sure if Haruka was trying to convey some sort of message with that, but he discarded his pondering as his lips were graces with a soft, warm pair, careful and teasing. He caught Haruka's bottom lip playfully between his teeth, and a soft growl escaped the blue-eyed boy. He dived in for another kiss, deeper with desperation, and then parted with a _smack_.

“And then?” Haruka sighed, still keeping up the rhythm of his hips.

“Ah, and then... Wow, I don't know, you... There was...” he stammered. He hadn't really made sure to memorise details.

“What about touching?” Haruka asked, lifting his body from where it'd been grinding on Makoto's, palming the underwear he hadn't even noticed belonged to himself. Makoto hissed through his teeth, an affirmative gesture that told, yes, touching was well appreciated.

“What do you want me to do?” Haruka demanded, but Makoto didn't know. Anything. Everything. He wanted them to find a place more comfortable than the floor. He wanted them to kiss until the day was over. He wanted... to re-enact his dream, yes, to make love to Haruka. To fuck him. To be fucked by him. Anything; everything.

“Do you have, ah... some kind of lotion, or...” his hand found Haruka's hair, running his fingers through the tangles of dark-blue hues. “Could we move to your bed? The floor is... hard.”

Haruka stopped for a second, and Makoto was almost a bit worried he'd ruined the mood or something. But then the boy nodded his head once, uttered a quiet “okay,” and helped Makoto to his feet.

All the way to the bedroom they were hanging off of each other. Hands roamed stomachs, backs, behinds and thighs, hair and cheeks, and lips were exchanging breaths and content murmurs. When they reached Haruka's room, they fell onto the mattress with a thump, and underwear were quickly discarded. Makoto opened his eyes as he heard the drawer of the night stand being pulled out, and saw Haruka's hand fiddling around inside until it found what he was looking for, placing a bottle of hand lotion on the bedside table. He closed his eyes again, palms drawing chills down Haruka's back, all the way down to give his buttocks an innocent squeeze. At this, there was a tiny gasp from Haruka, so Makoto tried it again, which seemed to please the other boy.

He continued the procedure he'd been engaging in while they'd been on the floor beside their half-finished breakfast, angling his hips up and down to cause friction. Makoto knew though, that if he kept that up any longer, none of them would last. He broke the kiss, both a bit out of breath, and flipped them around so that he was hovering above Haruka.

“Not so fast,” he grinned, stroking the bottom of his thighs. Though he had yet to experience it in real life, Makoto had had the sensation of being ravished by Haruka in a fit of arousal, and this time, he wanted to be the one showering pleasure over the other. Bending down, he kissed a trail from Haruka's right earlobe, over his neck, his collarbone, stopping to pay some extra attention to a nipple, and down past his navel. Haruka sucked in a breath, and Makoto took that as a good sign. Just a fragment of his nervousness remained within him, empowered by how much he _wanted_ Haruka, and he took a hold of the latter's arousal, pumping it in a slow, wary pace. Haruka inhaled shakily, and took an awfully long time to exhale. Being used to not breathing came with being a swimmer, Makoto supposed, but it still impressed him a little.

This part was somewhat new, but surprisingly, it wasn't scary or so for him. He supposed, it being Haruka, nothing really was. With the way they were so comfortable with each other, he was certain in everything he did, really. Had it been anyone else, Makoto wasn't sure he could've been doing what he did. Not with such ease, at least.

He remembered it clearly, what came next, and he felt like showing Haruka just how nice he'd been making Makoto feel last night, though he wasn't really responsible for it himself.

“I'll show you,” Makoto said lowly.

He gave a lick to the tip, enjoying the way Haruka squirmed beneath him, eyebrows close together in what looked like frustration. Knowing Haruka though, Makoto guessed it was just concentration, holding back what he so badly wanted to make noise of.

Makoto opened his mouth, taking in as much as he could, which honestly was less than he'd expected. Haruka sounded far from disappointed in his quivering swear words, however.

His hand covered what his mouth couldn't, and he made sure to take it slow, letting his tongue work around Haruka's member, ecstasy filling them both. His free hand slipped from a thigh to begin stretching him. Though Makoto hadn't necessarily done this before, he knew well enough how it worked. He teased for a moment, a finger plucking at the outside without bucking in, just to give a heads up. Then, he sat up, reached for the bottle of lotion and squirted some into his hand. Quickly, he was right back where he'd left off, now sliding a finger inside the other, whose breath caught in his throat. Makoto craned his neck to look at Haruka, speaking in a husky voice.

“Tell me what feels good, I don't know... exactly what to do, okay? Tell me when it's right.”

Haruka nodded, biting his bottom lip. His knuckles were nearly as white as the sheets he balled his fists around.

“Ah... bend your finger,” his voice was merely a whisper. Makoto did as he said, carefully. Haruka nodded, his body tense. “Keep doing that... you can... fuck, you can add another one.”

Makoto followed his instructions, fitting two fingers to twist and bend and stretch best he could without hurting Haruka. He wasn't sure how sensitive he'd be.

Back to moaning around Haruka's dick the way he remembered had felt so good in his dream, his focus and concentration was piqued, making sure to keep track of when a third finger might be all right. After a while, he pushed all three of them inside, and though Haruka sounded a bit pained – which he knew was normal, though it still hurt him to hurt his friend – he continued until those hisses turned into moans.

Then, breaking his concentration was a hand tugging at his hair, but more so in wanting attention than just wanting something to hold onto, and Makoto looked up at Haruka's face, tinted and panting.

Haruka didn't say anything, but Makoto understood, and he released with a _pop_ from his lips, hands wiping off on the sheets absent-mindedly as he pecked Haruka's stomach.

Haruka lifted his left leg, resting it on Makoto's shoulder, which made it harder to lean in close to his face, but easier to continue where they were heading.

“All right then...” Makoto mumbled to himself, coating his cock with lotion and bringing the head of it to Haruka's opening, starting to push inside. He bit his lips, restraining a groan. Haruka sounded as if he were in pain yet again, but when Makoto stopped, he urged him to continue.

Once fully inside, he took the chance to lean in and kiss Haruka's neck profoundly, leaving one mark to match the several he guessed to bear himself. Then, a kiss to Haruka's lips, and while still hovering close to his face, eyes locked and hot breath tickling the other's nose-tip and swollen lips, he began moving.

“Ah, fuck,” Haruka moaned, and it send a thrill from Makoto's curled toes all the way up to his scalp.

“Haruka...” Makoto breathed, it getting easier and easier to set a steady pace. “Keep telling me... ah...”

“Nng... touch– ah, God...”

Makoto let a hand travel between Haruka's legs, once again stroking his arousal. His entire body was pulsating; he'd never felt this good in his entire life.

Eventually they'd found a pace, Makoto smacking in and out with not too much force, and Haruka bobbing his body in sync. Haruka's eyes were closed, but Makoto couldn't stop watching him. The emotion on his face, the pleasure, the pain, the desperation; it was beautiful, dusting his cheeks with red like that, bringing sweat drops to his hairline.

They didn't last for long. The sensation was too much, and eventually Makoto's hand and thrusting had brought Haruka to the brink of climax, throwing his head back against the pillow as he spilled over the taller boy's hand. Not long after that – triggered by the sight that was an orgasming Haruka – Makoto reached his peak, pulling out just before it happened, and not caring about how he knew Haruka would demand he change the sheets on his bed.

He held himself up above Haruka, arms trembling. After regaining his breath a bit, Haruka opened his eyes, glossy and giddy, and reached up to pull him into another kiss. This time, their noses didn't knock together, but in the sloppiness of being completely exhausted, their teeth graced.

Makoto lay beside him, their fingers intertwined despite both palms being rather sweaty, and it must've passed an eternity before anyone spoke, but it was another comfortable silence, only broken by breathing.

“Have you ever had a dream like that?” Makoto asked, squeezing his hand a bit.

Haruka turned his head to look at him as if he were stupid. “I'm a seventeen year old boy, Makoto.”

“No, I mean...” he shut his eyes, taking a moment to think before continuing, a bit quieter, “About... me?”

Haruka swallowed and squeezed back. “Nothing like _that_.” he said, amusement filling his voice.

Makoto met his gaze. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked. He could come up with at least ten ways to interpret those three words.

Haruka swatted a hand dismissively. “Nothing,” he muttered, before remembering, “we never finished our breakfast.”

Makoto chuckled, turning to lie on his side and pull the other boy closer to him. “To be honest, I'd prefer this over fried eggs and fish any day, Haruka.”


End file.
